The Promises We Make
by Milarca
Summary: Chronicling the D/s relationship between Sam, Dean, and Cas. Domestic AU, human!Cas, BDSM, crack, angst, fluff, h/c, boys unrelated, Wincestiel.
1. The Promises We Make

**Fic Summary: **Chronicling the D/s relationship between Sam, Dean, and Cas. Domestic AU, boys unrelated, human!Cas, wincestiel, BDSM, crack, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort.

**Warnings: **This work describes a working, _consensual_ D/s relationship between three men. Though there are power exchanges, all parties agreed to their respective roles and are consenting adults. This work contains aspects of BDSM which include but are not limited to: bondage, dominance, discipline, and submission.

**A/N (edited as of July 2012): **This is a multi-chapter snapshot into Cas, Sam, and Dean's lives. I may post continuing chapters set either in the future or the past, but for now it's just a snapshot.

**Arc Summary: **Cas has lived with Sam and Dean for several months, but trouble still abounds when he takes Sam out without Dean's permission. Angst and fluff follow.

Thanks to TheGlassAuthor and SeaKat for being awesome betas, and Ginge, whose constant encouragement and general awesomeness has been unparalleled.

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**T****he Promises We Make**

* * *

Dean gave the small glowing dashboard clock a death stare. 11:37pm. Where _the_ _fuck _were they? If smoke could pour from a person's ears, it would have been billowing out of his in tanks. His hot breath could have melted the steering wheel around his fingers and gone on to the rest of the engine, if he didn't need both to drive. If you could call what he was doing 'driving.'

Pushing the engine at full throttle, Dean roared around a New Age, aerodynamic piece of metal as if it had been standing still. He didn't catch the snouty man's incredulous stare – he cared about very little at that moment besides locating two people who were, though unaware of it at the time, in deeper-than-Hell trouble.

His phone lay sprawled on the passenger seat, still glowing from when he'd tried to call Cas' cell. He'd tried Cas and Sam's cell phones with such a rage that a tiny voice in the back of his mind warned him that breaking the phone wasn't actually in his best interests. Fuck, he wanted to break _something_. He swerved a minivan without a thought, dirty highway water spitting at him resentfully, and searched his mental map of the city for the umpteenth time.

They weren't at the supermarket – where he'd supposed they'd been until they hadn't picked up either of their phones for half an hour – or the hospital – which he'd worriedly called to a very bored-sounding receptionist who'd confirmed that neither of them had checked in with mortal wounds – or the library. They could be at one of the parks. But why would they be there? At… _quarter to midnight_.

Dean sped across an overpass swathed in tall evergreens, heading to the rec center with little idea where else to look. Where else could they be?

At quarter to eleven, Cas and Sam had supposedly left the Auvergne Restaurant & Bar where Sam worked, and gone… who knows where. Like the aftershock of an earthquake, Dean had searched in an ever-widening circle outwards from the restaurant-epicenter, his worry increasing tenfold at every empty-of-Sam-and-Cas establishment he came across. Thankfully, the streets were relatively empty so late at night so he took liberties he wouldn't have otherwise, flooring it and switching lanes like lines were only suggestions.

He grabbed his cell again and hit '1' – Sam's speed-dial – channelling his anger into the grip he had on the small phone and just barely focusing on the road. It rang once. Twice. Three times. _Come on, come on_…

Dean ground his teeth hard enough to hurt his jaw – when Sam picked up.

"'Ello?" A snort and giggle accompanied Sam's slurred greeting.

"Sam!" Dean cried incredulously. Sam giggled again and said something muffled. The pounding of music and the clink of glasses told Dean what he really didn't want to know. "Sam, where _the hell _are you?" he growled, too furious to care that Sam might be drunk and liable to hang up any second.

"We're at 'bar, Dean. Where're you?"

Of course they were. Dean felt his pulse spike.

He could hear a laugh that sounded suspiciously like Cas' in the background, and then an accompanying one from Sam. Dean's upper lip twitched.

"Sam, you there?" Dean ground out, attempting to keep his voice level.

"Yeah, Dean! You should come over here; me and Cas are having an _awesome _time."

"Sam, Sam, listen to me, okay? What's the name of the place? I need to know, _right now_." He just hoped it wasn't on the other side of the city. He wanted to beat Cas' ass into oblivion sooner rather than later. And, fuck, what had Sam been drinking? He sure hoped Cas fucking _knew _that if Sam was drunk now it wouldn't be long before he passed out. And Sam _didn't_ deal with being passed out lightly. Not that Dean ever let him get fucking passed-out-drunk in the first place, but back when they were getting to know each other there had been a few close calls. This was _not _going to be like that if he could help it. Aside from the obvious obligations being Sam's dom implied, the last thing he wanted was for Sam to get into trouble on his watch.

And despite that Cas had theoretically been in charge, Dean was still accountable for giving him that responsibility. Why he had in the first place was beginning to gnaw at him. He would need to have a serious chat with Cas before the night was up, if the man was still vertical then, anyway.

"Yeah, Dean, it's—what? No, it's not, yeah, he's asking for the—" another laugh, "—Yeah, we're at 2119 _Agronomy_ Street. That's a funny name for a street, isn't it, Dean?" Sam giggled.

Dean took a deep, slow breath. That fucking _was _on the other side of town.

"I'll be there in a few minutes, alright, Sam? Stay where you are and _don't go anywhere_." Dean waited until he heard a slurred "Sure, Dean," before exhaling tensely and hanging up. He glanced over his shoulder at the deserted freeway, throwing the cell onto the passenger seat again and pulling the Impala around in a u-ey.

It took him twenty-three minutes to get to the Plexi – by which time the anxious burbling in his stomach had solidified to something akin to cooled lava – and less than two seconds to walk into the crowded bar and spot his – now very drunk – sub, and boyfriend.

To Dean's horror, Sam and Cas were talking to two scantily-clad young women who looked like they had just stepped out of a bad '90s movie.

None too gently, Dean walked up and put a hand on Cas' shoulder, squeezing hard. Cas jumped.

"Dean!" Sam's face lit up like Sunset Boulevard on a Friday night.

"Dean—" Cas said. He flinched when he saw the fire burning in Dean's eyes.

"Hi, ladies," Dean threw Sam a disapproving look before giving the girls a sickeningly sweet smile. "I'd like a word with my friends if you don't mind." He shouldered his way in front of them, showing them his back.

"Hey, excuse me, buddy, but we weren't finished talking to—"

Dean turned around, a disturbing and suddenly feral grin on his face. The blonde who had interrupted him grimaced and took a step back, reaching her arm out to the brunette at her side. The other woman stared at Dean, glancing behind him at Sam.

"Hey, Dean, they didn't mean anything by—"

"Cas, shut up," Dean said serenely before turning towards the girls. "I'm sure you weren't, but unless you want me to call security over here to take a good, thorough look at your IDs, then…" Dean watched their faces flicker and then harden into resentful sneers.

"Suit yourself," the blonde hissed and then brightened, looking around Dean to Cas. "See you later, Cassie."

The brunette waved and blew a kiss at Sam, "Sammy."

Only just stopping himself from getting into a fight with a woman, Dean took a very deep long-suffering breath, and turned back to Sam and Cas.

"Cas, just _what _exactly are you doing?" he thundered, plucking the beer bottle from Sam's loose grip and depositing it on the counter in disgust. He gave Sam a quick once-over, checking for bruises or lipstick stains or anything else he _really _didn't want to see on his sub. Cas stared at the floor, his mouth open and his lower lip quivering as he attempted to say something.

"Dean, Dean," Sam bubbled into the silence, tugging on Dean's shirt, "Me an' Cas have been having a _super_ great time, why didn't you come sooner? Dean, sit down, it's—"

"Sam," Dean bit out, taking Sam's arm and pulling him up. Sam stumbled, caught himself, and ducked his head.

"Dean, I—"

"Do you _know _how much trouble you're in, Sam?" Dean growled into his ear.

Sam swallowed and looked around helplessly.

"Dean, don't." Cas got up and held out a hand, "Relax; don't get mad at Sam, he—"

"Cas, do you think this is _okay?_" Dean hissed incredulously, his eyes electric. "What were you _thinking?"_ He couldn't help the disappointment that took over him then. Cas had taken Sam _to a bar _without telling him. He laughed to himself when Cas couldn't say anything. "Tell me right now or I swear to _God_—"

Cas looked up suddenly, his face a rolling thundercloud.

"Dean, I went to pick Sam up and he said he'd gotten a promotion. I wanted to celebrate. It was only going to be for a few minutes and then…" Cas trailed off as Dean's annoyance swiftly ballooned into rage.

As Dean listened to what Cas was saying, a jumble of emotion flooded him. A fiercely protective part of him roared that "celebrating" without his permission was not okay and there would be hell to pay for everyone involved. Another, more personal side, was proud of Sam for getting a promotion. And yet another dark corner of his conscience was confused as to why Cas would _do _this kind of thing without telling him. Taking Sam to a bar might actually have been all very well and good if Cas had just _let him know_. But he hadn't. _Why _hadn't he?

The very fact that Cas had gone behind his back in the first place was a wound on Dean's pride as a dom. Cas might be his boyfriend and have a relationship with Sam as well, but Sam wasn't Cas'. Sam was Dean's, and if Dean said that Cas couldn't take Sam anywhere without his permission, then he damn well couldn't.

"Since when did I give you _the right_ to take Sam out on your own? _Without_ telling me?" Dean pierced Cas with a glare, trying not to be exactly _mean _about it, but hitting his point home, "I told you very clearly, Cas, that you were to pick Sam up and bring him home. That's it."

Cas looked up guiltily.

"Instead, you bring him to a bar and get him—"

"Dean, Dean," Sam tugged on Dean's sleeve again. He looked drunk and tired and probably had the beginnings of a headache. "Cas only did it because I told him what happened at work today; it's not his fault. And we were fine…" He looked slightly admonished, if a little sick from all the alcohol in his system. He smiled weakly, leaning partly on the edge of the bar and gripping Dean's arm for support.

Dean fought the urge to be strict with Sam then, knowing he wouldn't react to it well in his state.

"Sam, we will talk about this later. Come on." With that, Dean pulled Sam from the bar and snagged an arm around his waist, getting him to hang on as he headed for the door. He didn't care to hit Cas with everything he had then; they were all tired and he didn't think anything meaningful would really stick. They could all talk in the morning. He just wanted to get Sam home and safe.

"Dean, wait. I'm sor—"

"Yeah, whatever, Cas."

Cas stood beside the bar, Dean's dismissal a slap in the face. He swallowed and pulled a twenty out of his wallet, placing it on the sticky bar along with their half-empty bottles. He watched Dean and Sam leave before he followed after them, keeping a discreet distance as they navigated the parked cars glinting in the moonlight.

He trusted Dean more than himself at that point, but he still needed to see that Sam got to the car alright. He didn't know what he'd do after that. He didn't think he even remembered where his car was. Not that he could drive if he found it; he'd have to take the bus back or something. And if he thought about it, sleeping in the car sounded better than going back to the apartment, for all he'd be wanted there. What if… what if Dean didn't want him coming back at all? Dean could change the locks before he got back and then he'd really be screwed. He'd have to stay at a motel and hope that Dean cared enough to send him his things.

Cas watched with relief as Dean helped Sam into the back seat of the Impala. He imagined Dean whispering comforting words into Sam's ear. Cas wished he could do that, wished he could be the one to take Sam home. Of course he might have had a chance with that if he hadn't betrayed whatever trust he'd earned with Dean. Dean would never trust him with Sam again.

"Can you drive?"

Cas looked up, startled. Dean was looking at him, none too pleased but not as furious as he had been only moments ago.

"Uh, I think I…"

Dean looked away sharply, impatient with his answer.

"Fuck, Cas, at least know what your tolerance level is. Get in the car." He sighed and got in the driver's seat, slamming the door.

Cas stared after Dean, a sudden, small hope fluttering in his insides. He suppressed it quickly, not quite believing that Dean was giving him even the smallest of chances at redemption, but not wanting to screw it up if he was.

Realizing that he wasn't doing himself any good by making Dean wait for him, Cas scrambled into the backseat as well, not wanting to push his luck by sitting in the front. Plus, he felt slightly safer in the back, away from Dean. He would have to face him when they got to the apartment, but, for now, he could just be content knowing he was at least close to Sam.

Arms wrapped around himself, Sam glanced to him with a small smile, as if apologizing for Dean. Cas couldn't bring himself to return it. He didn't know how Dean wanted him to act around Sam, and, though he desperately wanted to return Sam's gaze, he didn't dare. He hated himself for it when Sam looked away, hurt.

The engine thrummed to life and Cas was looking tensely out the window when he heard the crinkling of leather and then felt Sam's head on his thigh. He froze, slowly glancing down to see Sam shifting on the seat beside him, curling into a loose fetal position. Sam sniffed and sighed. Cas looked up quickly, seeing Dean watching him in the rear-view mirror. Dean didn't say anything, only turned his eyes back to the road.

Cas swallowed, glancing back to Sam. Though he didn't want to admit it right then, with the threat of Dean's fury looming overhead, he loved being near Sam. He loved it then, even when he had caused such damage in the last few hours alone. He smiled reluctantly, feeling a soft satisfaction settle into his tense limbs. After a moment, as they pulled out of the dark parking lot, Cas put a hesitant hand on Sam's hair. Sam quivered and pushed into Cas' hand like a cat, humming contentedly. Cas gently braided his fingers in Sam's silky chestnut hair, sliding his hand to soothingly rub his neck. He didn't say anything, simply held Sam, as the glowing lights of the city passed by.


	2. Without A Key

**Without A Key  
**

* * *

The ride back was silent, though when Cas chanced a look up he saw that Dean's hands were hard on the wheel. He flinched. He wanted to apologize; he wanted to make everything better to Dean, and Sam, who would wake the next morning and realize just how stupid his dom's boyfriend had been. Cas paused in his ministrations, feeling wrong for even allowing himself to touch Sam. But Sam wanted him now, and Dean hadn't seen a huge problem in it…

But Cas himself had still let it get out of hand, was still the third wheel idiot. And he was willing to take whatever Dean threw at him for it. But what would he do if Dean threw him _out? _Cas took a heavy breath.

Though seething on the inside, Dean tried to keep his attention on the road. He had sensed Cas' eyes on him through the rear-view mirror, and had at first been selfishly satisfied that he looked as if he was ready to beg forgiveness right then and there. But then Dean realized that Cas might just be too frightened of him to show anything else. He shifted his hands on the steering wheel, not sure how he felt about the thought. Of course he didn't want Cas to be frightened of him. He just wanted him to have a healthy respect for the ins and outs of his and Sam's lifestyle. Dean knew that Cas was still adjusting to it, adjusting to the thought that Sam was had willingly given Dean control over his life. Their relationship was strict, sure, but the fact that Sam obeyed him was a product of trust and love. Dean made absolutely sure that Sam felt safe with him and that he could always tell him what he thought, so that if his feelings about anything changed, he wouldn't be stuck. Dean's skin crawled at the thought of Sam feeling like he couldn't say something, like he didn't have a choice.

Despite the peculiarities of their relationship, Sam always had a choice. The crux was that he simply _chose_ to give Dean a certain amount of power over what he did in his everyday life, within the boundaries of the contract they had written up at the beginning.

But he and Cas weren't like that; they were a 'normal' couple. Maybe not exactly 'vanilla' because of the polygamous aspects of their relationship with Sam, but definitely outside the rules and formalities of BDSM that he and Sam did engage in.

However, Dean didn't dismiss the effect all of that had on Cas. Cas was free to do whatever he wanted in regards to Dean, but the fact that Sam had certain obligations and a set of rules to follow was bound to affect Cas. And apparently it had. Or had it? Why had Cas done what he had?

Dean didn't relish the thought of talking to Cas about it, but knew it had to be done. Regardless, Sam wasn't getting off the hook either. Despite the fact that it was mainly Cas' fault, Sam had a responsibility to Dean and knew that he wasn't allowed to go out with Cas without Dean's permission. Had Sam thought that Cas had had permission? Dean would need to clear that up as well. If Cas was going to do anything out of the ordinary, Dean needed to know, and Sam needed to know that Dean knew, or it wasn't happening.

So he would talk to Cas, and give Sam a reminder about who exactly he belonged to. Though Sam could trust Cas with his life, he couldn't just go out with him without giving word where or when. And the fact that Sam was being punished would most likely scare Cas as well. Cas probably wouldn't take too kindly to Sam being his whipping boy, but it would hopefully straighten both of them out.

The Impala rolled into the underground parking lot fifteen minutes into Saturday. Cas gently pushed Sam up. Sam groaned and blinked blearily into the darkened interior. He rubbed his eyes.

"'Er we home?" He asked with a yawn.

"Yeah, baby, we're here," Cas answered quietly, his throat tight as Dean walked around the other side and opened the door. He nudged Sam as Dean leant in to take Sam's hand and help him out. Sam stepped out carefully, taking Dean's arm firmly and leaning in close to his shoulder. Dean rubbed Sam's arm and slammed the door with his boot as Cas got out on the other side.

"Here, Cas, lock up." Dean tossed the keys to Cas, who caught them awkwardly. Cas had barely found the right one before Dean was headed in the direction of the elevator. Cas swallowed and locked the polished charcoal classic before going to follow Dean and Sam as quietly and unobtrusively as possible. He would have lingered in the parking lot but realized that Dean had also given him the apartment keys and would need them. He hurried to catch up and found Dean holding the elevator door open with his foot, his arms around a very sleepy Sam.

Once the doors had shut, Cas murmured to Dean about the keys but Dean shook his head and motioned to Sam. Cas nodded in understanding and couldn't help a small, sad smile. Whether Dean genuinely didn't want the keys back just yet because of Sam or was intentionally giving him that window of opportunity, Cas had little opinion. He was just glad that Dean hadn't completely shut him out. Yet.

The doors opened a moment later and Dean went first, guiding Sam to their door. Cas unlocked it and stepped aside.

Dean walked Sam into their bedroom with barely a look to Cas.

"Alright, here we are, Sammy," Dean whispered to Sam as he helped him to sit on their bed. He reached over to switch on the low-light side table lamps, leaving them as the only illumination.

"Thank you, Sir," Sam smiled lopsidedly up at Dean. Dean ruffled his hair and gave him a kiss on the forehead. Sam then yawned widely, blinking and rubbing his tired eyes. Dean closed the door silently.

"Out of those grungy clothes, okay?"

"Yessir." Sam obediently pulled his jacket off to reveal a pristinely white chef's coat. Even drunk, there were some things that Sam would not—if he could help it—desecrate.

Dean grabbed PJ bottoms and boxers from a drawer and set them on the bed beside Sam. Sam attempted to undo the buttons on his coat, and failed. His fingers felt large and gangly. He tried several times under Dean's careful eye and then looked hesitantly up.

Dean was there in an instant, sitting down beside Sam to undo the buttons himself.

"I'm here, Sam," he said wearily, helping Sam out of the coat and reaching over to hang it on the edge of the wicker laundry basket. Sam bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, the alcohol making his head spin. Next, Dean had Sam wiggle out of his black pants and boxers and into fresh ones and soft flannel bottoms. As Dean put Sam's pants into the laundry, Sam went to get up. He swayed and carefully sat back down with an embarrassed laugh and then a quiet intake of breath as his eyes grow hot. He looked up to a spinning room and put a hand on the bedspread to steady himself, gripping the covers.

"Dean?" he asked in a quivering voice.

Eyes glued to Sam's hand bunched in sheets, Dean answered quickly, "Yeah, I'm right here, Sam. Y'okay?" He put a hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezed, hoping the effects of the beer and whatever else was coursing through his system wouldn't make it too hard for him to sleep.

"Yeah, I'm just… No, no, I'm not. Dean—"

Dean gave him a look. Sam was allowed to call him by his name some of the time, but more than a few in a row got on his nerves.

"Sir," Sam corrected, looking down at his feet, "What we did, it wasn't Cas' fault, it wasn't—"

"Sam, stop it," Dean told him gently, not wanting him to dwell on that instead of sleeping. Sam bit his lip. "We will talk in the morning. Right now I need you to calm down…"—Sam took a shaky breath; _in… out…_— "Good, Sam. Now, up and kneel. On the bed."

Sam looked up quizzically but Dean gently pushed his head back down. Sam swallowed and shuffled onto the bed, pushing his shoulders back and spreading his knees, hands loosely behind his back. He kept his eyes down, even as he heard Dean open the carved wooden box that sat primly on their dresser.

Dean took Sam's black leather collar out of its velvet-lined box, closing the lid without a sound. He knelt on the bed behind Sam and slipped the collar around his neck. Sam lifted his chin and closed his eyes, feeling the anxiety that had flooded him at Dean's angry words at the bar slip from his being. Like the cold rush of air after a heady shower, the weight of the collar was electric, and pacifying. Sam resisted trembling as Dean pulled the soft leather snug and buckled it into place, leaving two finger's width so as not to restrict his breathing. The small, polished disk inscribed with both of their names hung heavy and cool in the dip of Sam's throat, a reminder of Dean's constant support.

Almost a minute after Dean's fingers had left the back of his neck, Sam still had his eyes closed as if in a trance; a mild form of subspace. Dean's hands on his chest didn't startle him, and as Dean wrapped his arms around him and gave the crook of his neck a kiss, Sam relaxed, easing into the warm embrace.

Their shared warmth acted almost as a drug, slowing the world to their heartbeats and soft breathing, melding their forms to one.

Dean took a breath, filling the space. Sam blinked drowsily, his eyelids waning.

"Be right back, Sam. Stay put," Dean said softly, his words a cool breeze in a parched desert. Sam mourned the loss of heat when Dean left, but stayed where he was, as he should when Dean said he would be right back. Although, 'right back' could mean anything from three seconds to a few hours, and 'stay put' could mean anything from in the position he was in to not leaving the apartment. He swallowed. Thankfully it was only a minute later that Dean returned from their and Cas' shared bathroom, a half-filled glass of water in his hand. Sam wondered vaguely what it was for.

"Here, Sammy, drink. If anything'll help get that alcohol out of your system it'd be this - and rest."

"Yes, Sir," Sam mumbled before the glass was at his lips. He put a hand to the glass to steady it and drank deeply, the chilly water sliding down his dry throat. Before he had downed the entire thing, Dean put a hand over it to stop him. He swallowed and looked down sheepishly, taking a breath and licking his lips.

"Don't want you drinking it too fast," Dean explained, watching Sam carefully. Sam nodded and waited until Dean lifted it again. He drank the rest, and then Dean went into the bathroom to fill it again and set it on the bedside table.

A moment passed, and Sam realized Dean was looking down at him worriedly.

"…Master?" Sam asked hesitantly, his eyes flickering up and then down again. Dean sat down opposite him and put a hand on his. Sam stopped fidgeting with his fingers, only realizing after the fact that he had been doing so.

"Hey, look at me," Dean took his jaw and guided him back. Sam's eyes shimmered and he just restrained himself from biting his bottom lip. Dean rubbed his cheek with a cool finger, "Sam, you're tired right now and we'll talk about this tomorrow. Under the covers." Dean's instructions were soft but Sam suddenly found himself wanting to talk. He had disobeyed Dean… he'd betrayed his trust and made him angry. He wanted to do so much more than apologize.

"Master, I'm sorry. Me and Cas—I just, it's not his faul—"

"Sam, we will talk in the morning. In bed, _right _now," Dean said. He knew Sam thought it was his fault, but it sorely _wasn't_ – if anyone was to blame it would be Cas. Sam had… god, Sam was always so good. He had slipped this once, by trusting Cas. And it was Dean's fault he had trusted Cas at all; he had expressly _told _Sam to trust Cas. The very thought pulled at his heart, but in all reality _he _was to blame for trusting Cas in the first place.

But he couldn't deal with that with Sam, right then.

Sam searched Dean's unrelenting gaze.

"But—"

"No buts, Sam. _Now_," Dean stood up to emphasize his point. He might have put Sam's fears to rest then and there but he just wanted him asleep so he could talk to Cas. Cas was the one who was in trouble, to a higher degree than Sam anyway.

Sam's look bordered on frustration for one heavy second, before he dropped his eyes and fumbled for the covers. He hid his face as he pulled the sheets over himself, and then rolled onto his side facing away from Dean. He lay there unmoving, unnaturally still.

Oh, crap.

Dean hesitated. He wanted to leave. He wanted to beat the crap out of Cas for making him do this to his sub. He wanted to pull Sam into his arms because if he didn't Sam would surely crumble and fall to pieces.

But Sam wouldn't collapse in on himself like Dean was the fucking universe holding him together. Sam was stronger than that.

Sam's shoulders rose and fell shakily.

He was stronger than that… But just because Sam could keep his stomach didn't mean that Dean should just leave him with sour words brewing around inside him, leave all of that to stew overnight.

"Sam, look at me," Dean said firmly.

Sam's head dipped and he froze for a long second before pulling the covers away from his head and staring at the wall. He sniffled, and then turned so he was flat on his back. Miserably, he slipped his eyes, red and tear-stained, to Dean. His lower lip trembled.

Dean almost surrendered then, almost gave Sam what they both thought he needed. He looked sadly down, and reached out to tuck a lock of Sam's hair behind his ears. Sam's gaze flickered in confusion. Even the smallest of touches was wrong. They both knew it. Dean took his hand away and then looked away himself.

It was several minutes later when Dean turned back to Sam, who was watching him intently, nervously.

"Sam, this _is_ partly your fault. You know that," Dean said. Sam looked away, into the darkened room lit only by the glowing lamp. The curtains were drawn. "But just as it's your fault, it's Cas' fault as well, and mine."

Sam's eyes widened and his chin wobbled precariously.

Dean's heart broke watching Sam so torn over the fault. Sam would so love to have everything on his shoulders, taking all of the blame, absorbing it like a sponge. Especially with Cas. Sam couldn't bear the thought of Dean's wrath inflicted on Cas as well. Dean was morbidly pleased by Sam's loyalty to Cas, but this time Cas had dues to pay that Sam couldn't pay for him.

Just as Dean was about to call Sam back to him, Sam spoke.

"I know, Sir." His voice hitched.

Dean wasn't altogether surprised. Even as Sam had begged for Cas' honour, there had been a touch of knowing in his voice. Sam wouldn't have begged so hard if he had thought Cas was innocent.

"I know," Sam repeated.

"We'll talk tomorrow, Sam," Dean said softly. Sam looked down, his lips still quavering with the need to speak. Carefully, Dean reached out to gently pet Sam's hair. Sam's chest rose raggedly and he nuzzled Dean's hand, closing his eyes. "Now get some sleep," Dean whispered, swallowing back a sudden tightness in his throat. He leant down to kiss Sam's hair, gave his shoulder a rub, and then silently left the room.


	3. And We'll Run For Our Lives

**And We'll Run For Our Lives**

* * *

Cas leaned nervously against the kitchen archway, studiously staring at the cream carpet for something to pour his energy into. Even though he had been living with Sam and Dean for several months, he still felt like a stranger in someone else's home. A lot of his things were still in taped-up boxes piled high in the closet in his room, untouched by anything but the spiders.

Dean emerged from his and Sam's bedroom, making not a sound or looking in Cas' direction as he gently closed the door. Cas hoped Sam was okay; he could have sworn he'd heard crying only minutes ago. He hoped Dean hadn't been too hard on him. Hoped he hadn't told Sam how terrible he'd been for taking him out without permission. Sam probably wouldn't talk to him for weeks now. If ever. But as long as he got the blame, he would be fine with whatever Dean told Sam. That was what mattered. This had absolutely nothing to do with Sam.

"I put him to bed," Dean said. "I said we'd talk about it in the morning; he could barely keep it together as it was."

Cas felt a weight lift from him, but he tensed as Dean approached. He was expressionless, unless you could call too-pissed-to-show-it an emotion. Even though Cas wasn't Dean's sub to be punished, he suddenly felt like one. He had betrayed Dean's trust with Sam of all people, and deserved everything he was about to get. He swallowed and looked at Dean hesitantly, trying to convey an apology in his eyes.

"Just… tell me what happened, Cas." Dean gestured vaguely and sagged against the adjoining wall like a ton of invisible bricks were stacked on top of his shoulders.

Cas hunched in on himself and took a shuddering breath, feeling his throat constrict.

"I… I went to go get Sam, and… And he told me he'd gotten a promotion. I wanted to celebrate with him, and things got out of hand. I am _so_ sorry, Dean, I am. Please don't—" Cas looked quickly to Dean's bedroom where Sam slept, pained at the thought of Sam being on the receiving end of his error.

"Cas," Dean said firmly. Cas looked up, his eyes bruised. "I appreciate that you're aware what you did was wrong. But I'm not going to just let you or Sam off the hook that easily."

"Dean, it wasn't his _fault_, he—"

"Sam is _almost_ as to blame as you are," Dean ground out, keeping his voice a hard whisper so as not to wake Sam. "He was _your _responsibility, Cas. Sure, he could have said something but it's _Sam_." Dean looked at him helplessly.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Cas asked angrily. Just because Sam was Dean's sub didn't mean he wasn't an adult.

Shocked into silence, Dean gaped at Cas, searching for words he didn't think he had in him to say. Did Cas seriously not understand how he and Sam worked? He had read their contract, Dean had made sure of it, so how could he just…

"Cas," Dean said when he felt his eyes begin to sting, "why… why did you think you could take Sam to a bar without telling me?" For the moment, Dean pushed Cas' outburst to the back of his mind. That was another thing they need to work on. But one thing at a time. One thing at a time.

Cas looked suddenly small, weak, and alone.

"I…"

He wouldn't tell a lie, he wouldn't be stupid and spin some half-truth. That wouldn't be fair to Dean. But he couldn't make himself say that he had been frustrated with Dean's behaviour over the past several weeks. The once-plentiful affectionate kisses and glances and late nights alone were just… gone. And he didn't know why. He didn't understand why Dean had suddenly started piling Sam with more affection and warmth, but he didn't want to resent it; Sam was almost as close to him as Dean was and he would rather leave than create any kind of strife between them.

It was just… Sam and Dean had this wonderful thing… and where did he fit into that? He hadn't mentioned it to Dean because he didn't want pity or anger. He just didn't know how Dean would take knowing that he felt lost in a dynamic he had willingly chosen to be a part of. If it was anyone's fault, it was his.

Dean watched in silence as conflicting emotions passed across Cas' face. Cas could always talk to him. Whatever Cas wanted to tell him, he would listen. Or he hoped he would. He would try. He knew he didn't exactly have a perfect track record when it came to taking thing and letting them digest before responding. He usually just spat out the first thing that came to mind and hoped it summed up everything and everybody could just move on. But that hadn't worked very well in the past, he realized.

"Cas, whatever it is, you can tell me. I can't promise I won't be pissed about it, but…"

Cas stared at the floor hard, his expression one of utter misery and slight horror.

"But I'm not gonna kick you out," he amended wearily. "Whatever it is… just—just tell me." He was disappointed in Cas, and Sam, but he knew that a temper tantrum wouldn't solve anything. Despite the fact that both Cas and Sam had a wupin' in their near future, he really only wanted to keep his family together.

Cas looked somewhat relieved, but still pained. He looked back to Dean, who had stepped back a bit to give him space. Cas looked away. Time seemed to drag. He took another breath.

"You know, Dean, it's probably nothing, I'm overreacting. I just—I just need some time too—"

"_Cas_," Dean said wearily, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Damn Cas for being so infuriatingly selfless. Cas stopped mid-sentence, stared at the floor harder. "Tell me what it is. Please."

"Dean—" Cas halted, gathering his thoughts. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "I just—I don't know if it's me or… for the past couple of days you've been so…"

Dean's eyebrows jumped. _Him?_ What had he…

"Cas, I don't…"

Cas huffed in self-directed exasperation and looked heavenward, as if seeking guidance.

"I mean—aside from this—" Cas laughed tragically, "was it something I did, or _didn't_ do, that's causing you to… avoid me? Dean, you would tell me if I missed anything, right?"

Dean stared at him. Wait. _Avoiding _him? He hadn't been…

Oh. Oh... _fuck_. He winced.

A dozen little moments from the past several weeks flashed through his mind; an account they'd been going after at work, Sam looking as inviting as a house cat in the sun, and Cas, missing. Sure he'd been around—he'd moved in only a few months ago—but he had drifted to the back of Dean's mind. Cas was usually in the back of his mind, but this was different. It was almost as if he'd become a shadow. Like he'd slipped into the background. But how could that have happened? He hadn't really noticed a difference in Cas since he'd moved in. But that was just how Cas _was_. Was he just realizing that? Dean wanted to kick himself for being such a self-centered…

It was because he'd just moved in. That was it. They'd all settled into the routine of domestic life and… had also settled into their natural personalities. So he just hadn't… gotten used to… Cas' introversion. Dean knew Cas was an introvert, a painful one at times, so why hadn't he… damn. He'd just let it slip his mind one too many times that Cas needed extra attention, he needed Dean to come _to him_.

Dean groaned in self-directed disgust and ran a hand through his hair.

"Shit. Cas, I've been… ugh, I've been ignoring you. _Dammit_." He groaned again.

"No, y—"

"Kay, seriously, Cas, shut up." Dean looked up to give Cas a joking-but-not-joking warning glare, the corners of his mouth tugging urgently up. Cas bit his lip in an attempt not to smile.

"Don't laugh at me," Dean said in mock-seriousness, but had to smile at the situation as well. He scrubbed his face and wandered into the living room. He glanced to Sam's room quickly and then back to Cas. He didn't want Sam to hear them, if he was still awake.

"Alright. Cas," Dean turned around. Cas had followed him and looked up soberly. "I was an ass. For that, I'm sorry."

And he was; he only realized it then, but, as little memories began filtering in, he began to see the pattern. He'd showered Sam with attention because Sam had been _obviously_ there. Though Sam was a submissive at heart, he didn't hide his need for affection.

But while they had been doing that… Cas had been left out in the cold. Why the fuck hadn't he noticed before? Maybe he'd just thought… thought that Cas had been happy to do his own thing; he had been so happy about things at his own work… but then again, was that just him trying to get attention?

"Wait," Dean said in horror, feeling suddenly sick to his stomach, "was that why you were so _happy_ the past few days?" Cas had been faking it. Cas looked him, equally as sick, lost and confused and perhaps only realizing it himself. "You were trying to tell me and I didn't even fucking notice."

Cas flinched, confused and tired.

"Cas…" Dean outstretched his arms and then an alarming thought occurred to him. Did Cas even _want_ his attention? No, that was stupid. He had had gotten himself into this mess thinking that. Dean closed the space between them and pulled the mess of curled-up limbs that was Cas into his arms. Cas was at first as rigid as if his blood were cement, and then slowly relaxed, his hands feather-light on Dean's back.

"I'm sorry, Dean. It's really not your fault—"

"Cas—"

"No," Cas gently pushed away from Dean and averted his eyes, taking a shaky breath. "Let me explain," he said it as if asking permission. Dean nodded, not trusting his voice.

Cas swallowed and then reached to take Dean's hand. Dean rubbed Cas' knuckles and gave him an, if slightly confused, encouraging smile.

"What you and Sam have is special."

Dean stopped. He didn't know if he liked what was coming, though not because he was worried Cas was about to attack his and Sam's relationship. No, it felt like Cas was about to say that what _they _had wasn't special. But Dean held his tongue and let Cas continue.

"I could never intrude upon that—"

"Cas…" Dean said, pained. Cas could never'intrude' upon what he and Sam had; he was _adding _to it and making it _stronger_. Couldn't he _see_ that?

"Just let me talk, please, Dean?" Cas waited then, looking anywhere but at Dean. Dean opened and closed his mouth, all the while holding Cas' hand tighter and intertwining their fingers in a desperate, subconscious bid to keep Cas with him. Cas didn't reciprocate the touch, but he didn't pull away either. Dean clung to him through their hands, desperate and confused.

"Floor is yours," Dean said, his voice sore and tight.

Cas took a breath of his own and then began again, "I don't want to be a third wheel. I know _we _have something, and I love Sam. So much… And I don't want to hurt either of you by coming between you. But, Dean. If _we _are going to be together, I just can't take not knowing. I don't know if you'll want Sam one day or me the next. I feel so… helpless. I just want… some security, or something, I don't entirely know, right now…" he held tighter to Dean's hand then, squeezing it almost painfully tight.

Dean looked at Cas sadly. He knew then that Cas had been feeling left out, but he didn't understand what Cas wanted when he said he needed 'security'. What did that mean? But what he was saying was genuine. And it needed careful thought, not a run of the mill Band-Aid approach. He owed Cas that much. He nodded slowly.

"I think I get it, Cas. Why don't we… talk about this tomorrow. Maybe give it some time."

"Yeah," a smile tumbled across and off Cas' face in a small instant, and he was left wary and tired.

Dean's smile was fleeting.

Cas started to pull him to the bathroom but Dean hung back.

"Uh, Cas?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

Dean squirmed guiltily as Cas looked at him with angelic innocence.

"I um, I want to work with you on this, but Sam is pretty wasted himself and I just want to make sure he's alright through the night. You're okay with that?" Dean tried not to look pained.

"What?" Cas said, confused for a moment, unsure what Dean was asking him. "Oh. Yes. Yeah, go, Dean. Sam's probably woken up already looking for you." He attempted a half-hearted exhausted little laugh.

Dean smiled tiredly in return.

"Thanks, Cas. Tomorrow we'll sort this out."


	4. Harbour

**Harbour**

* * *

Buttery sun streamed in through the window, illuminating dust motes and warming the air. The ceiling was a crystalline patchwork of light, reflected off the windows, mirror, and odd electronics scattered about the room. Sam had heard a word once, "argyle" that described the funny diamond-pattern socks had sometimes. This reminded him of that, only this was like a broken mirror. The daytime ghost of a softly broken mirror, the pieces scattered through dimensions.

Sam blinked, warmth heavy as rising bread around him as he lay on his back in a nest of covers. Dean's arm lay just under Sam's pillow, his solid presence a reassuring comfort. Dean's chest slowly rose and fell, his breath coming in dream-like puffs of air that tickled Sam's skin. He took a deep, satisfied breath, exhaling softly. If warmth was a drug, Sam was out of his mind delirious.

Despite his contentment, however, Sam felt a niggling sense of wrongness about the situation. But he couldn't figure out how such a pleasant piece in time could be wrong. What could be wrong with…

He froze.

The previous night flooded back to him like the first sip of a cold drink, chilling his insides and pooling in his stomach.

He had gotten drunk without Dean's permission. He had gone places without Dean's permission. But… Cas had gone too… Cas had taken him without Dean's permission.

Sam's head throbbed and he pushed Cas out of his mind. He was the one who was in trouble. But… why was Dean allowing him in his bed after last night? He shouldn't _be_ in a warm bed after what he'd done. He shouldn't be _enjoying _Dean after he'd broken the rules. He didn't deserve happiness, no matter how brief. He didn't deserve any of this.

Sam whined unintentionally. He wanted to bolt from the room, or prostrate himself before Dean and offer himself up to be punished. He _wanted _Dean to get angry with him, good and angry. Otherwise how could he live with himself? But Dean… Dean had his arms around him and was _sleeping_. Sam couldn't wake Dean up unless he was going to be late for work or there was a fire or someone was calling about the taxes. But he couldn't just—

"Sammy?" Dean blinked sleep from his eyes.

Sam jumped and his breathing increased. He blinked and then whispered the only thing that came to mind. The only thing he _could_ say: "Master. I'm sorry."

Dean's eyebrows knit together, the thick fog of sleep still clouding his mind. Sorry? For wh—

He shot up.

Sam was pushed up against the headboard, eyes wide. He was looking at Dean like he would eat him alive.

"Last night," Sam continued haltingly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go out without your permission or get drunk. Sir, please let me—"

"Sam, stop," Dean said gently, reaching out and taking Sam's arms. To his utter shock, Sam flinched as if burned. Dean's words fell short.

"I'm so sorry, Dean, I didn't mean to do it," Sam whimpered, head falling forward. Dean gripped him harder.

"Sam, _stop_! _Look _at me!"

Sam inhaled sharply, his body close to trembling. His eyes pierced Dean's, his entire body frozen.

"I know you're sorry. And I know you want to _show me_ you're sorry. Which you _will_, Sam. You, me, and Cas are going to have a talk and I'll tell you what your punishment will be. But right now you're going to calm down for me. Take a breath."

Sam inhaled and slowly let it out, his eyes still wet crimson. Dean rubbed his arms.

"Good..."

Sam shuddered, sniffling. After a moment, he shifted, releasing the covers he held in clenched hands. Dean held him loose enough to allow movement as Sam melted into a submissive position, knees apart. Though, that was mostly the only thing that resembled the respectful stance; Sam's shoulders were hunched, his head bent, arms tense at his sides.

"I'm—" Sam's breath hitched and fresh tears threatened, "I'm _so _sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to—"

Dean took Sam's jaw, fragile brown eyes meeting his. Sam was on the edge of another whimper when Dean pulled him to his chest.

"Sam, Sammy, it's okay, I'm here, relax, calm down," Dean shushed as Sam sobbed quietly, his heart beating through the fabric of Dean's shirt, his head on Dean's shoulder. Their heartbeats mixed as Sam took shuddering breaths.

"'M sorry, I d-didn't know what I was doing…"

"It's okay, everything's fine, Sam, just relax, there you go…"

"I'm s-so s-sorry, D-Dean…" Sam finally collapsed into a fit of sobs despite Dean's reassurances, his body wracking against Dean's arms. Sam burrowed into Dean, pushing his head under his chin and allowing Dean's arms to pull him closer, though the guilt of everything still ran through him, pulsing and hot. He was aware, at the back of his mind, that he was running to Dean… from the responsibility he had to his Master. But Dean and his Master were one and the same... but all he wanted was to be forgiven and loved.

Sam sniffed and heaved, swallowing phlegm and tears.

"It's alright, Sammy, I'm right here, it's okay, I'm not gonna do anything now—"

Dean instantly regretted his phrasing when Sam dissolved into a fresh bout of tears, clinging to him for all he was worth.

"Hey, hey, it's alright, I've got you. I've got you."

Dean held Sam until his tears had subsided and he was red-faced and tired, leaning into Dean and looking out their twelfth-storey window to the snowy mountains beyond.

Sam breathed. In and out; warm and held and safe. He was content, for the moment, to let all the sadness wash out of him. Dean's heartbeat was right up close to his ear, and he held on to the quiet little motion.

After many long minutes, Dean sighed, slowly and gently rubbing circles into Sam's back. Sam looked up cautiously, peeking around Dean's jaw. Dean looked down at him tiredly, his eyebrows raised.

"You okay?" he asked, starting to rub again. His breath warmed Sam's face.

It broke Sam's heart to hear such caring from his dom, when he had disobeyed him so. He blinked back tears and Dean pulled him closer again. "Sammy... We'll deal with that later, okay? First you can have some breakfast and a shower and then we'll all talk about it. Don't worry."

Sam whimpered and pushed against Dean again, tighter. He didn't want to be punished, but he knew he had to be. And he knew he deserved it.

And he would appreciate it when it came. But for now… for now his Master was holding him and caring for him, and all of that would come eventually.

"I love you, Sam," Dean whispered to Sam's hair. Sam bit his lip, his throat constricting.

"I—I love you—D-Dean," Sam said to Dean's shirt. Then he looked up so Dean could see his eyes, hear how much he meant it. Dean looked back at him with such affection that Sam had a hard time not breaking into tears again. Instead, he leaned into Dean wearily, utterly spent.


	5. Almost There

**Almost There**

* * *

Cas woke to a silent house. Well, almost silent. A muffled chuffing, the clink of spoons against porcelain, and quiet talking came from the kitchen.

He got up, linen cool against his skin, the cooler carpet under his bare feet. He slipped his pyjamas off and pulled on jeans and a soft weekend t-shirt. He changed his socks, unconsciously selecting a thicker pair. He felt cold even in the warm apartment. His bedroom didn't have a window, the one thing he missed but didn't complain about. Though window rich, he had been dregs poor before moving in with Dean. His old apartment had been grungy, sparse, and sour smelling.

Cas left the bedroom, pausing only a heartbeat when trepidation flushed through his system. He was not going to act like a hunted animal.

Sam was sitting at the island with a bowl of cereal, arms tense at his sides. He wasn't eating; he had paused, as if Cas walking in had interrupted him speaking to Dean, or Dean speaking to him. Which it most likely had. Dean was perched on the edge of a stool, body angled towards Sam, eyes shrouded and inattentive.

"Morning." Cas ventured a small smile for Dean, glancing to Sam and back.

"Hey, Cas." Dean seemed to deflate. He smiled back wearily.

"Cas." Sam turned around and grinned, the sparkle in his eyes smoothing away tired lines. "Did you sleep okay?" he asked with the innocence of a child.

Cas laughed carefully, keeping tabs on Dean's expression. "As good as ever."

"Yeah, right." Sam smiled, and then dropped his eyes and bit his lip. They both knew they were walking on thin ice by even casually talking about last night. Dean's expression hardened and he looked at the floor by Cas' feet. Cas cleared his throat.

"Well I'll be out after I have a shower and everything." Cas gave Dean a parting look—which Dean returned—before slipping into the bathroom. He sighed in relief.

By the time he had taken care of business, run a hot shower, shaved, and brushed his teeth, twenty five minutes had passed and Cas felt better. He did one last check in the counter-to-ceiling mirror, before stepping out.

Sam was at the sink, scrubbing a white porcelain bowl in a steaming jet of water. Dean had his elbows up on the counter, still holding the mug. His eyes were on Sam's back.

"Eat something, Cas," Dean said before taking a sip of what looked to be coffee, most likely cold if he was nursing the same one. "We're going to talk when you're finished, and after Sam's had a shower."

Sam hunched up at the reminder.

They had been talking. Cas squished a sudden pang of loneliness. It wasn't any of his business what they talked about in private. He nodded, going into the kitchen to get the bread out. He put two slices in the toaster, just as his headache started to come back. He winced, taking the pot of coffee out from under the machine and pouring himself a cup.

He pulled the toaster's lever down. The elements in the small appliance started to glow and he wondered vaguely if they could ever catch a piece of toast on fire. The toast usually just burned, he supposed.

"Sam, no, go take a shower, _now_."

"Sir, please…"

Cas glanced behind him. Sam was kneeling at Dean's feet, his tone implying wide and begging eyes. Sam had – successfully – used that on him numerous times in the past, but Cas knew Dean was only slightly more resistant to the technique than he.

"No, Sam. _Sam_." Dean put his coffee down and stood up. He pulled Sam to his feet. Sam ducked his head and blinked back tears.

"Sam, we will talk about this _together_. But, _right now_, I need you to go and clean yourself up for me. You can do that, Sam. And you will_. _Now _go_." Dean left no room for argument. Sam nodded, glancing to Cas before disappearing.

Cas didn't realize he'd been digging his fingernails into his palms until the pain lanced up his arm. He turned away. He'd done that to Sam. He had caused that.

Cas heard soft footsteps on the linoleum and for a moment thought it was Sam. He turned, mentally steeling himself.

"…Cas, you alright?" Dean asked.

Tears pooled in Cas' eyes and made his vision swim.

"C'm here," Dean pulled him into a hug. Cas resisted at first, and then shuddered and relaxed. Dean kissed him; once, twice.

The toast popped and Cas jumped. Dean chuckled.

"S' alright, Cas." Dean smiled. "We're going to talk about this. We all messed up. It's okay."

Cas sniffed into Dean's shoulder. He would have said something, if he could get his throat to cooperate.

After several minutes of simply holding each other, Cas unwound himself from Dean. Dean leaned back on the edge of the counter.

"Dean, do you know what…?"

Dean flexed his jaw and looked toward the windows, aware only after the fact that he had given Cas all he wanted to know. Cas glanced over to the toaster.

"What did you and Sam—"

Dean groaned, "He's tearing himself up over it, just wants me to forgive him. This morning he woke up and nearly had a heart attack trying to apologize. Had a major hangover too." Dean sighed. He had given Sam Aspirins to ease the headache.

"Cas, take a breath, man. He's alright," Dean said when he saw Cas' pallor.

"It's my fault, Dean. He didn't do anything…"

"Cas, he did. And you did as well. Look, you might have temporary control of him when I'm not around, but he is not your sub and he should know better than that. I take responsibility for him. I should have known... And _you_ should know better, Cas."

"I know," Cas said, bowing his head with the weight of Dean's criticism.

"But it's my fault as well," Dean said. "You're obviously unhappy with thingsright now and I'm a part of that. We both need to shape up."

Cas wanted to deny that it was Dean's fault in the slightest, to save him that guilt. But he knew it was true.

"We all screwed up. And I'm going to address that after you eat and Sam's finished. So eat. I don't want to have to make that an order." Dean's smile was playful but Cas couldn't bring himself to return it.

The resolute mood quickly faded, but it got Cas off his Royal Ass. He grabbed the toast and a plate, popping it into the microwave for a few seconds to warm and soften it.

When Cas was finished and Dean had gnawed an apple down to the core, Sam came out of his and Dean's bedroom. He looked haggard despite the pink flush of his cheeks and the dampness of his hair. Sam flit a glance between Cas and Dean before kneeling between them just outside the kitchen entrance.

Dean watched Sam without expression. It was the better part of a minute before he said, "Everybody in the living room."

Nobody moved.

"Everybody. _Now_," Dean said, wondering what exactly he was dealing with. Sam flinched and scrambled to his feet. Cas followed tensely after, apologizing to Dean with his eyes as he passed.

Sam chose an open space in the carpeted living room opposite the couch. He knelt, hands behind his back. Cas found a place on the armchair beside Sam. That left Dean to the couch. From the East, the morning sun cast a defused warm glow into the living room. Just out the window were the Coastal Mountains, thick with rich evergreens and snow-tipped even in the growing warmth of April.

Both Cas and Sam looked utterly spent. Dean rubbed his temples and sighed, trying to break the awkward stillness that had pervaded their small home. They both flinched.

"So. Let's just recap. You both with me?"

"Yessir."

"Yeah, Dean."

"Okay, Cas. Yesterday you went to go pick Sam up from the restaurant like I've given you permission to do when you're free. And that also means driving him home unless we've arranged something beforehand."

Cas dropped his eyes.

"But you didn't take Sam home; you took him to a bar. Why was that?"

"Sam got promoted," Cas said weakly.

Dean glanced to Sam, who was studiously avoiding his eye and biting his lip. "I'm proud of you for that, Sam."

Startled but grateful, Sam nodded.

"But taking Sam to a bar, Cas, _without _telling me, was _completely inappropriate_. Do you understand that?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now, Sam. Though Cas has pretty much every right I do as your dom, when you and he are alone you listen to him, but you call me if you don't feel comfortable about anything at all, alright? Sam, _here_."

"Y-yes, Sir," Sam said, ashen. Dean didn't comment on the look Sam gave Cas.

"Cas, it's nothing personal, you know that, but Sam needs to know that if something isn't right, he can call me. And the same goes for you—I mean, if there's anything you're ever unsure about with Sam or in general, you call me. Got it?"

Cas nodded in resignation.

"Good." Dean's eyes lingered. "And Cas—"

Cas' face flickered with fear.

"You and I are going to have a talk later about everything, because I know there's some miscommunication going on. We'll sort everything out because I know that I have some explaining to do myself and I want you to be happy with us. Capisce?"

Cas nodded.

"And, Sam, me and Cas are going to talk and get it sorted out between us, then we'll tell you what's going on, okay?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Awesome. Now that that's out of the way." Dean scrubbed his face for the second time in twenty-four hours. He stood up and took a breath, meeting both Cas and Sam's eyes. "To get into both of your skulls that I care about you and don't want to find you drunk, passed out, or bleeding to death the next time you feel the urge to do whatever you want." Dean paused for emphasis. "Sam, you're going to get one strap for every five minutes I didn't know where either of you were, and—hey. _Wait_," Dean said when both of their eyes went wide and Cas started to protest. "That was about an hour or so, so to be fair we'll say twelve straps. Cas, to be clear, you are not watching this and for the foreseeable future you won't be picking Sam up from work or taking him anywhere alone unless you ask me personally and I give you and Sam both the go ahead." Dean took a breath. "Any questions?"

Cas looked sick. Sam stared at the coffee table.

"Dean, Sam doesn't deserve th—"

"Okay, Cas, just listen to me for a minute."

Cas glanced to Sam and then back to Dean, pain evident.

"Just to be clear: _you_ didn't sign on for that kind of thing with me, and that's completely fine—you know it is—but you had a responsibility to Sam, who did. He messed up, and you messed up. I just want this to teach you both not to put yourselves in that kind of situation again. I had _no idea_ where you were—you didn't tell me, you weren't answering your phones. I mean, I know you're both grown men, but _seriously_. Not cool. Do you guys _get _that?"

Neither looked at him. Cas swallowed.

"Yes, Sir."

"Sam, I'm sorry—"

"_Cas,_" Dean said.

"What, _Dean_?"

The silence was tangible.

"Let me explain," Dean said with the calm of a man with his hands in the air.

After a heavy pause, Cas nodded.

"I want you to listen to this as well, Sam. This punishment—well, Sam's punishment, Cas' restriction—I am giving them to each of you separately. You are both partly to blame for last night but what you're each receiving is not the other's fault. Sam, you didn't call me when you knew something was wrong; Cas, you took Sam to a bar without telling me. These are offenses against me and each other, but I take full responsibility for your respective punishments. Sam, it's not your fault that Cas will have to answer to me for the next little while, and Cas, it is in no way on you that Sam'll be a little sore tonight. Is that clear?"

Neither looked up. Sam's lower lip was trembling.

"Sam."

Sam dragged his eyes up.

"I will lift the restriction that I've given Cas eventually—hopefully sooner rather than later—but for now I have it in place to protect the both of you from this happening again. He didn't respect your boundaries or the ones I'd set and somebody has to pay for it. But _I'm _giving the order and it's not on you. Cas and I will talk together to sort it out fully, but I need you to understand that _I _am your dom, and if I say that Cas has to take you home, then you have a responsibility to remind him of that. Do you understand me, Sam?"

"I think so..."

"Tell me if you don't," Dean said, giving Sam his full attention.

"I just, I mean—" Sam glanced to Cas, who was looking utterly ashamed of himself, "Are you two… I mean you're not…" Sam looked as confused as a child whose parents were fighting. "It's not… me… is it?"

"_What? _No. Sam, aside from you not obeying me, Cas and I have some things to work out, _none of which_ is your fault."

On the verge of tears, Sam dropped his head.

Dean felt like an ass. He had just been trying to _reassure _Sam. Didn't Sam get that what was going on between him and Cas had nothing to do with him? Why did he… Well, hell, _they _didn't even really know what was up. Sam was very much a part of the equation, but it was nothing Dean wanted to change. He himself just needed more time with Cas so that he didn't feel left out and under-appreciated. But Sam was perfect. Sam was Sam and Dean didn't ever want to change what was essentially him.

And both Sam and Cas were supposed to be in trouble. Dean couldn't very well comfort Sam and leave Cas hanging. But… but Cas was stronger than that. Right? No, he couldn't go to Sam and leave Cas. That would be unfair to everyone.

Dammit.

"Cas… I'm going to need you out of the apartment for a few hours. I'm not going to disguise this; you know what we'll be doing. But I don't want you to be here for it, okay? Go to the supermarket and pick up whatever's on the list if you can't think of anywhere to go."

Cas' eyes widened and he wavered between Sam and Dean. He wanted to object, to say _no _to this—this _thing _that they had. But he couldn't. He had said yes to it after Dean'd told him, and he had accepted. He didn't exactly participate, but if he was in a relationship with Dean and Sam then he was a part of it by definition. He had been glad from the beginning that Dean hadn't pushed him into anything. He was neutral. And he needed to remain neutral now.

Taking in Sam's wet face out of the corner of his eye, Cas nodded slowly. He looked Dean square in the eye.

_Take care of him_.

Cas knew it was hypocritical, but he couldn't help caring for Sam any more than he could help breathing. He looked away, before he was sure Dean got the message. He would. Dean had been taking care of Sam long before Cas knew either of them.

Cas got to his feet. He grabbed the list off the fridge, the house keys, and his jacket. He stood on the threshold, holding his breath. He looked up and caught Sam's eye. For one instant, Sam held his gaze with a knowing bravery that Cas didn't think he would ever see replicated. In spite of the redness that painted a soft frame around his sea-green eyes, Sam looked almost serene as he nodded ever so slightly. Cas held his gaze for as long as he dared, then left, closing the door behind him.

He stood on the golden carpet for what seemed like a lifetime. He steadied his breathing, fingered the keys in his pocket, and headed to the car park.


	6. Right Beside You, Dear

**Warnings: **bdsm, spanking, etc.**  
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**A/N: **(08/08/12) Because of feedback, I've edited this chapter significantly in regards to clarity and characterization. I apologize for any inconveniences, but I believe the changes make this chapter easier to read, understand, and enjoy. So thanks for the feedback, guys; I appreciate it more than you can imagine =)

* * *

**Right Beside You, Dear**

* * *

The door closed, and Sam took a breath. The air was clean and cool and gave him something to concentrate on. He hoped Cas understood him, understood that he was more than okay with this. Though Cas could be obtuse and thick-skulled sometimes, he really did try. Sam didn't know if putting on a front for him was wise, but he seemed to need it.

"Sam, here," Dean said.

He fought a tired smile when Sam turned immediately and was kneeling before him an instant later. Sam's eyes were sharp and attentive on his face; he could do that, switch the object of his focus at a moment's notice like switching gears in a car. Sometimes it unnerved Dean, but those feelings never lasted because Sam was always so organically aware of him. When Dean called, Sam was all ears in a way that suggested whatever Dean had in mind would be a puzzle he relished solving. Whether it was a simple order to pick up a screw-driver or simply because Dean wanted Sam near him, Sam gave himself over to the task. Not completely, however, because, depending on what kind of mood Sam was in, there could be anything from the barest hint of gratitude, to overpowering desire in his eyes. Sure Sam loved giving himself over to Dean, pleasing Dean in any way he could, but he also thrived on the personal challenge and the knowledge that Dean needed him in a similar way that he needed Dean.

"Sam, do you understand why I'm punishing you?"

Sam looked away for an instant and then back up again.

"Yes; because I didn't recognize that Cas was taking me to a bar without your permission."

"That's right. And you understand that you and Cas were responsible for different things?"

"Yes..." Sam nodded slowly. It turned into a shake half way through. "No." He sounded agonized. "I mean, Dean, what's going on with you and Cas?" Sam looked suddenly, utterly confused, and Dean realized in that instant what an idiot he'd been. He'd skipped out on the one thing a good D/s relationship really needed: clarity. And why? Because he was just as new as Sam with the whole "threesome" thing? Because he didn't want to admit to himself that Sam and Cas were basically together anyway?

The problem was, Dean thought, in the last two years he and Sam had been together, it had obviously been just them. And so now that Dean saw the opportunities in adding one more member to their family, he didn't know how to go about it. And his protectiveness towards Sam was showing. But he didn't really want to protect Sam from Cas; he loved seeing them together. He did. Dean blinked at this realization, and suddenly knew what to say.

"Sam, we all screwed up on this. I didn't realize that before and I'm sorry. So let me say that from now on I'm going to give Cas a bit more freedom with you, and you with him, because if you two want to go… there… then I won't be the one to stop you. I see I was really just jealous of Cas… and I shouldn't be. Because I love seeing you with him, Sam, and if you want that, then I want that as well. You still messed up, and you're going to be sore for it too—" Dean flashed Sam a playful warning grin and was rewarded with a shy smile in return. He sobered quickly, however, and continued: "Because Cas really should have talked to me beforehand if he wanted to do that, and you should have as well. But if that's really what you two want then I'd be a dictator if I didn't give my blessing. So. There." Dean looked away, embarrassed.

"…Thank you, Sir," Sam said after a moment. "Me and Cas…" Sam smiled sheepishly. "Thanks."

"…_As long as_…" Sam turned to look at him. "In the future, you follow the rules. If you think something needs changing, you come to me. Understood?"

"Understood," Sam said with knowing weariness.

"Better be," Dean grinned at him and then stood with a roll of his shoulders. "Alright, then, up you get."

Sam grimaced as if he'd tasted bad medicine but rose fluidly to his feet, his head deferentially down, hands at the small of his back.

Dean barely attempted to hide an amused smile.

"Sam," Dean said, his smile waning to that of an encouraging one. Sam looked up, drawing his eyebrows together and giving him his full attention once again. "You can do this; we're doing it together or not at all."

It was impossible to miss the grateful flash of trust in Sam's eyes and the small smile.

"Okay, come on," Dean said with an impatient huff, and Sam's smile widened into a grin.

"Hey, I don't want to see your smirking face," Dean said over his shoulder. Playfully, but with a touch of caution. Sam hid his smile and followed Dean into their bedroom, resuming a cool submission.

Dean stopped him before their bed.

Their bed was simple to the average eye, but told vibrant stories to those who knew what to look for. The head and foot-rails were low to the mattress and made of sturdy cast iron. Two single bars supported the main frame on each rail, making for an unpretentious prison-bars effect.

"Shirt, pants, and socks off."

"Yes, Sir." Sam did as Dean asked with practiced ease and placed the pile by the closet.

When he returned to the foot of the bed, there was a pillow on the floor. Sam paused in happy surprise before kneeling. His knees wouldn't suffer, anyway, he thought, not sure if he would appreciate the irony as much in ten minutes. He folded his hands behind his back, taking a moment to calm his shrill heartbeat.

"Safeword?" Dean said from behind.

"Score."

Dean's mouth twitched into a faint smile. "I don't want you using that unless you absolutely need to, but don't be afraid, either. You got that?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then boxers down, hands on the rail."

Working to steady nervous jitters, Sam shimmied his boxers down to pool at his knees. Despite the tepidity of the room, he, being shirtless, was several degrees cooler than strictly comfortable. He twitched in the cold but reached out and took the cool metal. He clenched and unclenched his hands, a chasm seeming to open up between him and the footer.

"Shoulders back, Sam." Dean pressed a feather-light touch to Sam's lower back. Sam followed Dean's touch, pushing his shoulder blades together and curving his spine. He took a breath.

"No going into subspace, Sam, like always. You are going to appreciate this and you need to be alert and in the present to do that."

"Yes, Sir."

Satisfied, Dean straightened his own back and turned to the low oak chest by the wall. He lifted the lid and undid a cream cashmere bag, pulling out a wide leather belt. He folded the belt in on itself once and closed the chest with a muted thump. He mentally shifted with the leather in his hands. He went behind and just to the left of Sam.

"You're going to count for me, Sam."

"Yes, Sir." Sam shifted his hands on the metal frame and worked his teeth.

Dean detected a hint of fear in Sam's voice, and paused to gauge his mood. Thankfully, there was a firm set to Sam's brows indicating he was ready, or as ready as he would ever be.

Dean struck, once, hard.

Sam jumped and sucked in a breath. "One," he managed. Cherry-blossom pink bloomed like candy stripes on his ass. He curled his toes, arching his back and clenching.

"Hey," Dean said in a hard warning tone. "None of that. Relax, Sam."

Sam took a shivering breath but relaxed himself, just as Dean hit a second time. Sam flinched and bit his lip.

"T-two…"

"Louder."

"Two!"

Dean hit a third time. Sam grunted. "Three." He was clearer this time. His ass was now a bright red and he clenched without thinking.

"Sam…"

Sam relaxed, though his body still quivered.

The next four strikes came in quick succession, Dean giving Sam solid, stinging blows. Sam shook, trying to keep his shoulders back, though his head drooped as he attempted to keep tears at bay.

"You're doing great, Sam, just keep it up a little longer."

Sam nodded and bit his lip hard, hands white on the bar.

Dean hit again.

"E-Eight."

Another.

"Nine." Sam's voice had taken a crisp edge, though it took all his concentration to keep it that way.

"Back straight, Sam. It'll be over soon, I promise."

Dean took a breath and gave Sam another. Sam was silent and kept his posture.

"Ten," Sam said through his teeth.

Dean swung again, giving Sam no time to think.

"Eleven."

One last time, Dean hit, putting just enough force into the strike, so as to leave only a superficial sting. Sam's face contorted and Dean pulled the residually warm leather to his hand. Sam's ass was decorated with two inch-wide, crisscrossing marks.

"Twelve," Sam said tightly. He took a controlled breath and swallowed.

"Good boy, Sam," Dean said. He took Sam's shoulder and rubbed. Sam leaned into him and closed his eyes, not trusting his voice.

"That was awesome, Sam," Dean said, looking carefully at Sam's closed-off face. Now he would need to rest for a while. "Okay, we're done, careful when you stand."

Sam seemed to come back to himself and he glanced up at Dean before taking the rail and pulling his boxers up. He got shakily to his feet. He winced as the fabric chafed his rear.

While Sam moved around to the open side of the bed, Dean put the belt away and went to grab some cream for any inflammation the belt might have caused. He also pulled out a fresh shirt and pair of PJ bottoms from their dresser.

Sam sat obediently on the edge of the bed.

"Here." Dean sat on the bed and unfolded the soft cotton pants. "Out ya get."

Sam shuffled stiffly out of his sweats and fumbled to help when Dean held the PJ bottoms open for him.

"Sir, I can—"

"You're going to let me help whether you want to or not, Sam." Dean gave Sam a look and then jerked his head. "In."

Sam obeyed with a tired smile, lifting himself up with a hand braced against the mattress as Dean pulled the pants up the rest of the way.

"Arms."

Sam held his arms out so Dean could slip the shirt on.

"On your stomach, pants down again." Dean got up and grabbed a bottle from the en-suite bathroom. When he came back, Sam was bare-bottomed and lying with his head in his arms. His ass had bloomed an even brighter red and Dean couldn't help but smile. Sam watched as Dean sat down and squeezed a portion of the clear ointment onto the palm of his hand.

"What's so funny?" Sam asked.

"Nothing, you just don't realize how beautiful you are with your ass all pretty pink like that." Dean grinned as Sam buried his face in the covers and moaned. "You were brave, Sammy." Dean warmed the gel with his hands. "I appreciate that."

The silence was comfortable.

"This isn't going to sting, Sam. It's cooling. Just relax."

Sam nodded and Dean poured a dime-sized pool of the lotion onto Sam's red skin. Sam tensed.

"Relax, Sam."

Dean kneaded the gel into Sam's skin, covering every flushed inch. He pulled Sam's pants down or his shirt up as needed. Once it was all rubbed in, Dean put the cap back on the tube and went to rinse his hands. He came back and urged Sam's rump up so he could pull his pants back on. Sam turned over and slipped his legs over the side. Dean pulled back the covers and motioned him in. Sam winced but crawled under. He curled up as Dean drew the covers, and a chill raced up his spine at the cool sheets. He sunk down into the mattress. Dean slipped under the covers from behind and wrapped an arm around him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and then burying his nose into the crook of his neck. Dean inhaled deeply and kissed the soft skin just under his collar. Sam moaned and pushed back against Dean.

Dean laughed softly, and to Sam's surprise, then gently cajoled his arms out to grasp them at the dip of his back.

"Hold still," Dean said. Sam felt leather touch his wrists and knew Dean had grabbed the wide cuffs from the chest as well. By the time Dean had buckled them into place, Sam was hard and moaning.

"Easy," Dean said with a malicious smirk as he released the cuffs and put a hand on Sam's bucking hip. Sam could be such a little slut when he wanted. Sam shivered and rolled his shoulders, grinding wantonly into Dean. "Wait, turn over," Dean said in a rush, pulling on Sam's shoulder. Sam hesitated but obeyed, rolling over so they were facing each other. Dean ran a fiercely possessive hand through Sam's hair, soaking up his lust-blown eyes.

"You're mine." Dean's voice was rough.

Sam bowed instinctively into the energy of Dean's words. They were both breathing hard, both in the crushing, heated embrace of leather and limbs. Sam felt a forceful kiss press into the crown of his head. He breathed into the hollow of Dean's throat, that kiss pulsing through his veins. And then he twisted to peer up at Dean. The heavy-lidded gaze that met him almost prompted Sam to bite his lip.

Sam swallowed and dipped his head again, snuggling up against Dean's chest.

"Yours."

* * *

**. to be continued .**


End file.
